Out on a Ledge
by terrapintarts
Summary: I can't believe what I'm seeing. This looks like something I would do, turning a whole room upside-down in a rage. We hadn't seen near enough of each other lately, me and April, but she was reminding me of me. I loved her an awful lot in that moment.


**Author's Note: This is another fic brought to you by the Terrapin Tarts. This one was co-written by DeeMG, KameTerra, and yours truly. It takes place maybe a month before the 2007 CGI movie. This oneshot came out pretty short. We only used only canon characters. **

**Please don't misunderstand the mushy sentiment in the summary, because this fic is about friendship and not romance! ****If you were hoping for some smexy RaphxApril, I highly recommend the fics over at KameTerra's FFnet account because that's her bread and butter and I can't think of anyone who does it better than she does.**

**This ficlet was a lot of fun to write and we really hope you enjoy it!**

**XOXO**

**Winnychan**

* * *

><p>Balancing on the rusty beams, I watch them quarreling through the double windows, and grimace. I can't help wondering what they're fighting about.<p>

I'm the only one who still goes out of my way to see April and Casey. Donatello keeps himself busy all the time, and would rather spend his time obsessing over stupid shit like moldy dishes and Splinter's cholesterol. Mike, on the other hand, is actively avoiding them. They're 'kind of a downer to be around,' according to him. So he's keeping his head down and treating their issues like a storm that will eventually blow over.

I came down on him once or twice for it… think I called him selfish asshole the last time he bitched about them. But lately I can't help thinking that maybe he was right.

I didn't say so to Mike, but the trick is to hang out with them separately. That's usually the trick, anyway. I settle onto the rail uneasily, trying to figure out what they're saying without imagining what they're saying, which is tricky. Their raised voices are just muffled enough that I can hear their hurt without making out any of the words. April and Casey are turned in such a way that even lip reading is impossible. My brain is inserting terrifying subtitles and a part of me is sorely tempted to leave.

But I don't leave, because there's still a chance Casey might escape this and he and I made plans. Really, he made the plans and I accepted them, because that sort of thing doesn't happen very often these days. Between his "real job" and the shit he does to help April out with the shop, he never seems to have time anymore.

And as for April...it's hard to spend time with her, too. She's running that shop all the time, of course. Best time to get to see her is late at night, when she's doing the books or whatever with the money, and rearranging the store. She always smiles when I come sneaking in the back door, and keeps smiling even when she's putting me to work schleppin' stuff around so it might sell or something. I dunno. She's been spending a lot of time studying this stuff, real antiques I mean, and she's made a couple of really impressive sales. Guess all that time she spent roaming around the countryside, peeking into middle-of-nowhere towns and hanging around at county auctions has helped her business.

Though it don't seem like it's helping her home life very much. Whatever they're fighting about, I don't think it's money.

I'm still straining to make out the words, telling myself it's just 'cause I'm hoping for a clue on how much longer I should wait around, when I realize I'm not hearing _anything_ anymore… which might be a good sign, except that I know when April's _really_ pissed, she goes all scary and quiet, and sure enough when I peer in through the window, she's standing there with her mouth pursed and her arms crossed over her chest, and Casey looks anything but contrite.

Jesus. Watching them right now, seems like maybe I'm lucky to be a mutant turtle—odds are good I'll never have to worry about this relationship stuff.

I turn away for a moment, letting out a puff of breath that turns into vapor in the crisp air, and I fidget a little. Thinking of leaving, to be honest, since this looks like something that might lead to a drawn out discussion, when suddenly I hear Casey's raised but muffled voice, and I whip around just in time to see him slamming the apartment door behind him as he leaves.

Shit! Shitshitshit! Why the hell didn't he storm out through the window and meet me out here! Either he forgot I was coming over, or he figured he'd get in even _more_ trouble hitting the rooftops, but either way I figured I should find out what's going on. I seized my shell cell out of my belt, but even as I was getting ready to dial Casey's number, I caught sight of April in the kitchen, and I froze there with the phone in my hand.

She was crying.

When April cries, it isn't fake like the girls on those gawd awful soap operas Master Splinter watches. There's no big glassy eyes, no single sliding teardrop down her cheek. April's whole face turns bright red and her eyes and her nose start running. Her whole body heaves and she eventually crumples in on herself and rocks, hugging her knees.

Her father's shop had burned to the ground the last time I saw her cry like this.

Back then, I didn't know what to do. Thankfully Casey had been there. He had been the one to haul her off the floor and drag her into a fierce hug, and she had fought him at first and then seemed to give in and sag against him.

Honestly? My first impulse, after my brain is up to processing speed again, is to run. That's it—just run. Cuz there ain't nothin' more intimidating to me than a girl in tears, and I'm including the Shredder with the whole Foot clan behind him. But of course, as soon as the thought pops into my head, I know I won't do it. Cuz this ain't just a _girl_. This is April. And the guy who usually takes care of, of… this kinda of shit, just ran out the door.

Goddamn him.

I ain't taking sides. Really. I don't really care who's in the wrong, here—don't even wanna know. I'm just pissed at Casey 'cause I'm the only one here, and I don't have a freaking clue what to do. All I know is, I have to do something.

I turn back to the window, and April is still on the floor, but she's half sitting up now, and wiping her eyes. Pulling herself together, like she always does. And I wonder about that, about how she can go from full collapse to this, already peeling herself off the floor, when moments ago she'd looked like she was at rock bottom.

I don't have that kind of resilience, that's for sure.

And I still don't know what to do. I let my fingers slip away from the buttons that will call Casey, and put my phone away - it doesn't feel right to call him. It doesn't feel right to leave without checking on April. I think about heading for home, acting like this whole thing never happened, and that feels like...well, kind of like closing a door; like I'll be making a big mistake.

Hell, it all feels like a big mistake.

April stands up. Her face is still red and wet, and she's swiping at it with her hands, sloppily. But her eyes and her mouth still look hard, and it's almost scary, even though it's not aimed at me. She moves away from the window, out of my line of sight, and it's a relief to not be looking at her anymore.

But I still gotta know what she's doing, right? So I pull a ninja trick, and creep down the rusty girders to get a different angle into the apartment window - I can't go much lower without risking being seen in the glow of the streetlights, but me and Don took the time to work out exactly what places were okay for keeping us out of sight when we need to come to visit April, back when we were still speaking to each other like brothers, and I know where the safe spots are.

At first, I can't see her even from my new perch, and it's kinda irritating - this ain't the most comfortable I've even been, with this metal edge digging under my shell - but then I see movement, and find her again. She's on her knees in front of an open closet door, and she's moving with some energy. Big movements, with a lotta anger in them. I try not to tilt my head like a damn dog, but I really can't figure out what she's doing yet -

Ah. That's it. Her canvas rucksack comes sailing out of the closet, tossed over her shoulder. Then a couple seconds later, her bedroll.

Looks like she's gonna take some kinda trip to get over whatever it was.

God. She's really serious about this. All of the forward momentum runs right out of me. I can't do anything but watch in amazement as she whips herself into a proper fury. It's the most girlish tantrum I have ever seen her throw, complete with flying clothes and clattering hangers, and several drawers emptied onto the floor with destructive haste.

I can't believe what I'm seeing. This looks more like something I would do, turning a whole room upside-down in a rage. We hadn't seen near enough of each other lately, me and April, but she was reminding me of me. I loved her an awful lot in that moment.

At the same time, I felt bad for Casey. Don't get me wrong, he probably did some dumb shit thing to cause all of this. Ran his mouth, or didn't use his brain, or something. But I know firsthand that it's an terrible thing to work yourself up for a serious apology... the really awful kind, when you know you really owe it to the person... and when you finally go to do it, they're not there!

They've taken off, to god knows where - halfway across the world, without so much as a fucking goodbye! I don't know a worse feeling than that.

I'm being hasty though. This is different. I don't even know the facts. I blink at what I'm seeing and start paying the scene better scrutiny than before. She hauls a moving box from her closet - from way in the back of the closet. She's sorting through... tank tops. Cargo shorts.

My stomach bottoms out. It's late January. Wherever she's going, it isn't close. I'd been taking comfort in the fact that her canvas bag was kind of small, but as I shift left to get a better view of her room I realize that it must just be her carry-on or something. The day bag. She's got a much larger piece of luggage open on the floor now. Items I had assumed she had discarded onto the floor... had actually been _packed_.

My heart begins pounding. Where the fuck does she think she is GOING? Does Casey have any idea?

Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm swinging my way back to the fire escape and sliding up the kitchen window, fired by memories that have nothing to do with April or Casey. I slip into the kitchen and march through to the bedroom, making no attempt to do the ninja stealth thing, but I still musta been quieter than I thought, cuz when I step into the doorway, it's obvious she didn't hear me coming. Or maybe she was making too much noise herself, slamming drawers and chucking stuff around.

"Don't do this!" I say loudly, still panting heavily with emotion. And okay, maybe it woulda been a good idea to clear my throat first, at least give her some warning that someone else had entered the apartment, but I didn't. And I swear to god April jumped four feet in the air. Maybe she had something more graceful in mind than what happened next, but there was too much shit scattered across the floor, and she caught her foot in one of the straps of the duffel bag and went down hard, narrowly missing the end table next to the bed.

"Raphael, what the HELL are you doing here!" she shouts, looking up at me with a face still smudged with recent tears. But in spite of having recently been crumpled in a pitiful heap, crying, she looks anything but sad now.

In fact, she looks downright pissed.

I open my mouth to answer, but then I just stand there dumbly, suddenly struck by just how out of line I am. This ain't my house, and this sure as hell ain't my fucked up relationship. I had no right to be spying, and I have no right to tell anyone what to do.

Except… I know too well what it feels like to live with the kind of regret she's facing, and I care about her too much not to at least _try_ and talk to her about it. I open my mouth to speak and start drowning on my words right away. "April. I didn't mean to - listen, don't go. Wherever you're going, don't do it like this."

April springs to her feet with a practiced move that I recognize immediately. It's a novice recovery, one I had mastered by age six, but it's still startling to see it performed by a human. Guess Master Splinter really HAD been teaching her a thing or two during his routine weekly visits. Somehow Mike and I just assumed their time together quickly dissolved into fancy tea-drinking and watching Gray's Anatomy marathons (Master Splinter has a serious weakness for April's DVD collection).

I was so impressed by the move that I didn't get my guard up in time for her fierce right hook. "Now you listen to me!" she shrieks, rubbing her injured fist and glaring. I stagger backwards towards the open window, reeling with shock more than pain. "I am a _grown woman!_ I won't take that shit from him. And I CERTAINLY won't hear it from you!"

I stare at her, feeling bewildered and sick to my stomach. "Hey, look. I don't know anything about it," I lift my hands, back-peddling. "I'm just saying it's a lousy way to get back at someone."

"This - this isn't about HIM!" she throws a sharp gesture at me, exasperated. "This opportunity means a hell of a lot to me. It's the most exciting contract I've had in months. And, thanks to a certain someone's bail bond and legal fees, I can't AFFORD to turn it down."

Okay. So maybe it was about money.

"You're right," I grunt, starting to turn away. "Forget it. I didn't mean - I should never have come barging in here."

"Damn right, you don't," April says, but with a lot less venom. I'm not looking at her anymore. I have frozen in place, staring at a pair of tourist books that were recently tossed into the suitcase atop a pile of clothes. She notices and seems to grow uncomfortable before deflecting hotly, "I swear to God, Raph, if you don't stop staring at my panties this second..."

"You're going there," I finally manage to croak, once my brain has jump started. I'm still staring at the books: _Frommer's Costa Rica, 2007_ and _Lonely Planet: Central America on a Shoestring_.

"Raph," she begins to protest. I wait for the rest of it, but her shoulders deflate and she doesn't finish.

"It's not just about the work," I insist, turning back to face her. "I get it now. You're gonna look for him."

She hesitates and her eyes flash over my face, like she doesn't know whether or not to be honest with me. But she is honest, in the end. "Of course," she admits quietly. "It seemed like fate. A contract like this just falls into my lap. Some billionaire agrees to send me there... of course I have to try!"

"Take me with you," I beg in a very low voice.

"No," she says, firm and immediate.

"April. You have to take me."

"Yeah?" she counters, putting her hand on her hip. "And what are you going to do, once we find him?"

"What do you think? I'll kick his fucking ass."

"No, Raph." She's more gentle this time, but she's still turning me down. 

Suddenly I wish _I_ had some drawers to slam and shit to throw around. I go rigid and turn my head away so she can't see the look on my face. "Go, then," I say gruffly, my teeth clenched just as tightly as my fists. "Don't forget to write."

Maybe someday I'll get used to being left behind.

"Raphael…"

"Just fucking GO!" I yell, and suddenly all I can think of is how badly I need to get the hell out of this place. I wheel and turn towards the door.

"Raph! Raph, wait!"

But I don't feel like waiting. I want to find Casey and tell him what's happening. Whatever stupid thing he's done, he deserves the chance to say that he's sorry. He deserves that much.

I throw myself out on the ledge, ready to launch myself off the fire escape and into the night. April follows close behind me and seizes me before I can make the leap. Her small hands wrap around the lip of my shell in a white-knuckled grip. She seems prepared to be carried off piggy-back rather than let me go.

I'm kind of trapped now. I'm not just going to toss her off me. She's got nowhere to land but this rickety-ass fire escape. I don't care how angry I am, at her, or the world... I'll never lay a hand on April.

"You want me to beg some more?" There is a horrible wheeze in my voice. I hate this. "Fine, I won't kick his ass! Not while we're there. I get it. Wouldn't be fair, right? Putting you in the middle like that. I'll fucking… behave, I'll…"

"Could you really? Raph. We all _know_ how angry you've been." One hand releases my shell. I'm relieved at first because I think she's gonna let go of me, but no such luck. Her arm snakes around me in a stubborn hug. She rests her chin on my shoulder and her slender fingers splay on my chest plates. I can feel the startling warmth of her damp cheek against my neck.

I can't think of anything to do but keep on pleading my case. "He's got to know, April. The team has fallen apart and I don't know how to fix it. Don won't lift a goddamn finger and I don't know how to – how to stop - everything that's been going on. He's got to know. Everything's so screwed up."

April wraps her other arm around me and gives me a solid squeeze. "You're preaching to the choir. As soon as I find him, believe me - he'll be getting an ear full."

I am trying so hard not to panic or fly off the handle. I'm pulling each breath in and out of my body consciously, thinking of swinging pendulums and violin strings and every other stupid image Splinter provided in meditation practice. I absolutely refuse to break down in front of April. God damn it. I came in here to comfort HER, didn't I?

"Besides," she continues in an easier tone, still pressing close, "do YOU have any idea how he smuggled himself onto an airplane, airport security being what it is today? I haven't got a clue."

I make a scoffing noise in the back of my throat. My voice sounds raspy as I mutter, "We could figure it out. You could board like a normal human and I'd sneak into the…the hull." I don't actually know if it's called a hull. That could be ships? "The cargo place!"

"And how would you get in, exactly?" she presses.

"I would just, you know, do my ninja thing. Stick to the shadows." Truth is, I got no idea how he did it either. But just the same, I believe what I'm telling her because of one stubborn principal: If Leo could do it, so could I!

April pulls away from me slightly and I can feel her looking at me askance. "Shadows, huh?" The tone coloring her words has become very skeptical. "Raphael, have you even SEEN an airstrip before?"

I scowl and amend quickly, "Okaysomaybe there won't be a lot of shadows! But I'd figure something out… fight dirty, if I hafta! I'll knock out as many security guards and baggage claim dudes as it takes."

"That isn't good enough, Raph. It would be an incredible risk for both of us. Knowing Leo, he probably planned for months before leaving. If anything went wrong-"

I twist to look at her with my face full of pain. She's probably right about Leo plotting behind our backs for months. I didn't take the time to notice. "That's the thing, April. Maybe – maybe it already did. What if this isn't just an extended vacation? What if he's out there, captured or - or bleeding in a ditch somewhere? _What if he needs our help?_"

A mark appears between her brows and she nods pensively. "The thought has crossed my mind. If something has already happened-"

"He's not dead!" I snarl, more sharply than she deserves. "I'd know it, if he were dead. We'd – we'd all feel it. Splinter, he would know for sure!"

"I know," she soothes, patting my arm and looking out over the city sadly. "I'm sorry. Of course you would."

It's nice of her to say so, even if she doesn't believe me. I don't blame her. The truth is, I'm not so sure myself. I want to think we'd know right away, the sky would open and some thunderclap of grief would strike me to my knees. But I just don't know for sure. Leo and I haven't been close lately - not since we were kids. And none of us have ever been so far away.

I stay quiet and she pats my arm like she's coaxing me to speak. Good luck with that, April. I could never find a voice for this terrible fear.

"I'll find him," she says at last, and there is a steel core inside of her promise. "I'll figure out a way to bring him home."

I swallow hard and give a reluctant nod. There's no point in trying to convince her. It's not even fair of me to try. By offering to look for Leo in the first place, she's already doing more than we deserve. "You want me to round up your man? Drag him back here, before you take off?"

Her hand falls away from my arm and all of the confidence slides off her face. "I don't know, Raph. He was a real jack-ass tonight."

"You care about him, don't ya?" I shrug. "Even a jack-ass deserves the chance to say goodbye."

She gets real quiet and rakes her teeth over her lower lip, taking her time to think about it. It's a no-brainer that she cares about him, but April can be as stubborn as me sometimes.

She looks over her shoulder, gazing through the open sliding door at the royal mess she's made. She'll probably have it all cleaned up before Casey makes it home. April won't want to reveal her tantrum if she can help it, plus she's funny when it comes to leaving someone else a mess.

"I already bought red-eye tickets. Just after he left," she admits. Her voice has gone hoarse and she scrubs her knuckles over eyes. "Find him quickly, okay?"

By the time she turns back to look at me, I am already gone.


End file.
